Riya Mehta sat across from her parents, staring at the ornate tea set on the table, feeling like it was the most awkward meal of her life. The faint clinking of silver spoons against china was the only sound breaking the heavy silence that had descended over their modest dining room. Her father, an unassuming man who had spent most of his life working at a small accounting firm, avoided her gaze. Her mother, ever the traditionalist, looked expectant, her fingers twitching nervously on the edge of her sari.
"You know we're not forcing you, beta," her mother finally said, breaking the silence with the kind of tone that implied exactly the opposite. "But Dev Kapoor is a good match. His family… they're well-respected, wealthy. It's a good alliance."
"Alliance," Riya muttered under her breath. The word hung between them, an old-fashioned term for something that should be about love, or at the very least, companionship. This wasn't an alliance; it was an arrangement.
An arranged marriage. In the year 2024, no less.
Riya wasn't opposed to the idea of marriage. She had seen many friends walk down that road, some happily, some less so. But she had always assumed that her life would be different. After all, she had worked hard to earn her ACCA qualification and build a successful career in finance. Marriage was supposed to be something she chose when she was ready, not because her parents believed her biological clock was ticking or because a well-to-do family had come knocking.
"I don't need to get married just because I'm turning thirty," she said, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice. "I'm doing fine on my own."
"Of course, you are," her father said softly, his voice laced with the kind of quiet disappointment that always made Riya feel guilty. "But it's not about need, Riya. It's about stability. Security. It's… it's what people do."
People. The ever-present, unseen force that dictated everyone's choices. What would people say if Riya didn't marry soon? What would people think if she kept focusing on her career instead of settling down?
"I don't even know him," she said finally, though her resistance was waning. Dev Kapoor. The name itself carried a weight that made it hard to ignore. He wasn't just any businessman; he was a billionaire, a man who had built an empire in tech, respected for his work ethic and ruthless determination. He was the kind of man who had everything—power, money, influence. And yet, apparently, what he didn't have was a wife.
Her mother's face softened. "It's not about love at first, Riya. Love grows with time. You two will figure things out."
Riya sighed and slouched back in her chair. She doubted that love would grow between her and a man like Dev. This wasn't a Bollywood film where two people from different worlds fell madly in love after an arranged marriage. This was real life, and she was being asked to marry a stranger whose world was entirely different from hers.
Still, something tugged at her, a small, curious part of her mind that wondered what kind of man would agree to an arranged marriage in the first place. A billionaire, no less. Surely, he could have any woman he wanted. What kind of man would agree to an arrangement like this? And why?
Before she could ponder the question any further, her phone buzzed on the table. She glanced at it, seeing a message from one of her colleagues—a reminder of the audit she was leading the next morning. Her job was her life, and while she loved the thrill of it, she knew her family didn't understand her passion for it. They saw her career as something temporary, a placeholder until she "settled down."
But the more Riya thought about it, the more she realized this wasn't just about what her parents wanted. She was approaching thirty, and the thought of spending her life alone—of focusing only on work and coming home to an empty apartment—was beginning to lose its appeal. Maybe she didn't want to admit it, but some part of her was tired of the grind, tired of being alone.
"I'll meet him," she said finally, her voice quiet but firm.
Her mother's eyes lit up, and her father breathed a sigh of relief.
---
A few days later, Riya found herself standing in the lobby of a high-end restaurant, feeling out of place despite her crisp business attire. The restaurant exuded luxury, with its marble floors, high ceilings, and dim lighting that gave everything a soft, golden glow. She'd been to plenty of fancy places for work dinners, but this felt different. This was personal.
"Ms. Mehta?" a lad wearing a black suit smiled at her warmly. "Mr. Kapoor is already waiting. Right this way."
Riya followed the man through the restaurant, her heart pounding slightly. This was it. She was about to meet Dev Kapoor—the man she was supposed to marry, the man who would become her partner in this absurd, practical arrangement.
They reached a private corner table, and there he was.
Dev Kapoor looked exactly as she'd imagined. Tall, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, with sharp features and dark hair that was neatly combed back. He exuded confidence, the kind that only came from being accustomed to power and wealth. But there was something else, too—a quiet intensity in his eyes, as though he was used to assessing everything around him with quick, calculating precision.
He stood when he saw her, offering a polite smile.
"Riya," he said, his voice smooth and composed. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."
She extended her hand, and he shook it firmly but gently. No unnecessary flourishes, no fake charm. That, at least, was a relief.
"Dev," she replied, taking a seat across from him. "Likewise."
For a few moments, they sat in silence, studying each other. Riya noticed the way his gaze lingered on her face, not in a predatory way, but with genuine curiosity.
"I'll be honest," Dev said, breaking the silence. "This situation isn't exactly what I had envisioned for myself. But here we are."
Riya nodded, appreciating his bluntness. "Same. But I guess that's life, right? Unexpected."
He smiled, a small, almost imperceptible lift of the corner of his mouth. "Unexpected indeed. So, how do you feel about all of this?"
Riya leaned back in her chair, considering her answer. "I'm not opposed to the idea of marriage, but I've always thought it would happen on my own terms. This… well, it feels more like a business deal."
Dev's eyes flickered with something—amusement, perhaps. "It is a business deal, in many ways. Our families get what they want, we maintain our independence, and everyone's happy."
"And what about us?" Riya asked, raising an eyebrow.
"We make the best of it," he said simply. "No expectations, no emotional complications. Just… an agreement."
Riya took a deep breath. It wasn't romantic, but at least he was honest. And maybe that was what she needed—someone who wouldn't pretend this was anything more than it was. An arrangement. A contract.
A partnership without love.
"Well then," she said, holding out her hand once again. "Here's to making the best of it."
Dev smiled, taking her hand once more, sealing the deal.
It wasn't love, but maybe it didn't have to be. At least, not yet.